


Darker Creatures

by crossroad_angel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demon Sam Winchester, Hey look John's actually nice, M/M, i don't actually know what i'm doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:59:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7687303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroad_angel/pseuds/crossroad_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester lost a brother and a mother. John Winchester lost a wife and a son.</p><p>After the fire that took their family and their home John swore revenge on the demon who had caused it. After 25 years of looking they meet Castiel, a man who's known for finding missing people.</p><p>No one goes through life without a secret. John blames himself for not being quick enough, Dean finds himself drawn to their mysterious blue eyed companion, Castiel has never been who he says he is.</p><p>But no one's hiding a bigger secret than little Sammy Winchester.</p><p>Starring: Gay Angel, Gayer Angel, The Cute One, Daddy Issues And Drinking Problems, Low-key Satan, Still In The Pit, High-key Satan, and Fire Sword</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"Dean, get outside!" John yelled to the four year old still standing at his bedroom door.

"But what about mommy and Sammy?"

"I'll take care of it just get outside."

"But dad..."

"Go, Dean!"

John watched his son run down the stairs before he turned back to the nursery. The flames licked the walls and their crackling was only drowned out by the wails of the child in the crib.

Nothing in the nursery was visible to John through the smoke and flames. Then something caught his eye. A yellow glow. Two actually. Like... eyes.

The flames died down enough for John to see a face. Whoever, whatever, it was smirked at him before disappearing. And with it went Sam's crying.


	2. White Lies and Black Eyes

"Dad?" Dean spoke wearily. He rubbed his eyes then looked around the empty motel room. He could only assume that John was on a hunt, but he would've woken Dean up, right? Maybe he'd just gone out for breakfast. Dean was trying to convince himself that that was the situation while he was pacing the room after getting up. Growing bored with the repetitive activity, Dean moved over to the window and pulled back a curtain. His father's black Impala was still parked outside which had to be a good sign. John would never just leave it there. He loved that car.

Dean and John were in Maine, investigating a series of deaths that seemed to be caused by demons. Demons were new for Dean and he was yet to encounter one which is why they had spent a few days previous at Bobby's house, finding out whatever they could. Well, John had read every book he could get his hands on while Dean complained about the amount of reading involved. "Shut up and actually do something helpful," John had told him, dropping a book of demon lore onto the table in front of Dean. Dean glared up at his father and slowly opened the book, not breaking eye contact. John just laughed and went back to reading.

Days had passed since they'd left Bobby's house and hours had passed since Dean had woken up that morning with no sign of his dad. John still hadn't returned. It was unusual for John to leave without alerting Dean first. He didn't even leave a note. Dean wanted to go look for him but their rule was to wait twenty-four hours before assuming the worst.

It had been twenty four years since the fire but this was the first time that John had left Dean by himself or with no idea of his whereabouts. Even while Dean was a child, John was always honest with Dean. Why would that change now?

It was probably nothing. Dean was twenty eight so obviously he was old enough to be left by himself for a while and it's not like he had to know where his dad was at all times. After a few phone calls that John didn't pick up Dean sighed and grabbed his jacket and his father's keys before heading out the door. He had nothing better to do so he decided that he'd listen to his stomach and actually get food. It wasn't long after that that Dean found himself in the front seat of the Impala, eating a burger that he'd gotten from a nearby fast food place.

-

It was almost evening when Dean headed back to the motel. As soon as he stepped through the door he felt another body against his and arms wrapped tightly around him. "Dad," Dean chuckled and returned his father's embrace. "You saw me yesterday."

"I got back and the car was gone." John pulled out of the hug but kept his hands on his son's shoulders. "You were gone." He looked nothing less than concerned. John knew that Dean could take care of himself but he'd already lost one son so he was going to be sure that he didn't lose this one too. "I was worried."

"You were worried?" Dean asked, stepping away from John. "You weren't here when I woke up and you wouldn't answer any of my calls."

"I'm sorry." John Winchester didn't often apologise for his mistakes, but when he did, he meant it. This wasn't so much of a mistake though, more of a secret that he had to keep for just a little while longer. "I just promised someone that I'd meet with them today and I didn't want to wake you up for that."

Now that Dean thought about it, John was gone at that time the previous year too. Actually, he'd been disappearing every September 20th and just leaving Dean at Bobby's for quite a few years. "Hey, dad?" Dean asked as John took a seat on the sofa in the room. "Where do you go every year?"

"I... Uh..." John was looking for the right words. An excuse, a lie, anything. He noticed Dean was watching him curiously so he sighed and decided that he'd settle on the closest thing to the truth he could. "You'll find out soon. You have my word." Dean nodded. If he'd learned anything in his twenty eight years on Earth it was that a trustworthy man's word was his bond and there was no one that Dean trusted more than his father.

"Found out anything new about the case?" Dean asked, closing the door and taking a seat next to John. John shook his head before standing up and heading over to the fridge. Dean pulled his laptop – which had spent the day balanced on the arm of the sofa – onto his lap but didn't open it. He just stared at it until he felt the couch dip next to him again. He looked up and John handed him a beer then took a sip of his own. Dean quite happily took the drink but something was bothering him. The longer he thought about the murders, the more a pattern became clear to him. "It's like they're looking for something... or someone."

"What do you mean?" John asked. Dean took a swig of his beer before putting it on the coffee table and opening his laptop. He pulled up news articles on the murders that they were investigating and turned the laptop to John so he could see the screen. "I still don't get it."

Dean sighed and turned the screen towards himself again. "They're all house fires," Dean said. "And all of the victims are new mothers. Sound familiar?" John winced slightly. It wouldn't have been noticeable if Dean didn't know him so well.

"If the demon is continuing what he did that night then why leave such a large gap?" John pondered. It didn't make any sense. Why wait twenty four years to make a move? And why so many deaths at once?

"What if he's looking for us?"

"What?"

"Maybe he's not continuing some spree that he started twenty four years ago," Dean explained, fully confident in where he was going with this. "What if he's doing something familiar to get us to react?"

Due to being awake so early and a long drive in a stolen car John was asleep not long after the sun set. Dean couldn't fall asleep so easily so he stayed up until the early hours of the morning. He watched the clock on the bedside table.

3:13am

He wanted to sleep but he just couldn't. There was an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was his earlier realisation or maybe it was something else but all he did was lie there for a while and question 'why?'

Why would the demon want to find them after all this time? Why make them relive their past?

"Dean..." His name came as nothing more than a whisper from a voice he didn't recognise. He sat up slowly and glanced in the direction of his father's sleeping form. John stirred in his sleep slightly but, other than that, he showed no sign of waking up undisturbed. "Dean," the voice hissed. Dean looked around the darkened room again but didn't find anything out of the ordinary so he cautiously peeled back the blankets and climbed out of the bed. As Dean approached the door he silently cursed himself for leaving his flashlight in the trunk of the Impala. Dean remained as calm as he could. Surely this was just his imagination. Dean cringed as the door creaked when he opened it. It was a quiet creak but somehow everything sounds louder when your parents are asleep. He shot a quick look over to John and relaxed when there was no visible reaction from his father. "Don't want to wake daddy?" The voice came again. This time closer and more taunting. "Such a shame. I wanted to talk to him."

"Who are you?" Dean asked, closing the door. He couldn't see well in the poorly lit motel parking lot but he could tell that the other man was somewhat taller than him and the reflection of the light in his eyes showed nothing but black.

"You'd think a hunter would recognise his prey." The demon smirked. "And after all I did to get you here? That's just sloppy work, Winchester."

"You're the one who killed all of those innocent people?"

"I wouldn't use the word 'innocent.'" The demon shoved his hands into his pockets and straightened his back in order to use his full height to his advantage.

Dean couldn't understand why he was still alive. Why hadn't the demon tried to kill him yet? "What word would you use?" Dean asked. There was something that didn't match the lore that he had read. Demons were ruthless and this one had gone through so much trouble to get him there. Why let him live this long?

"Not sure." He shrugged. "But humans are never innocent. I could never understand why you go to so much trouble to save them."

"Because every life is worth something," Dean almost growled. He regretted not bringing a weapon out with him. He wasn't completely sure how to kill the stranger but he could probably come up with something if he had the tools.

"Do you really believe that?" He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, sending sparks through Dean's nerves. "Do you believe everyone deserves to be saved?" he repeated and Dean nodded. What kind of a question was that? Of course everyone deserved to be saved. Dean wasn't heartless. "What about you? Do you think that you deserve to be saved?"

Dean tensed. Did he deserve to be saved? He had done some bad things in the past and didn't really see a light at the end of the tunnel that he'd gotten himself stuck in. The demon was surely just playing with Dean's head. That's what they were good at. Toying with emotions (and murder).

"That's what I thought." He smirked again and his hands were no longer in his pockets. He was leaning against the Impala and running a finger along the roof, letting his nail scratch at the paint job. He sighed when Dean failed to respond. "You want to know why I'm here, don't you." And again, Dean could only nod in reply. "I got bored of waiting." The black finally drained from the demon's eyes and his gaze flicked from where his hand was now resting on the roof of the Impala to where Dean was stood. His hazel eyes were making him seem human and it made Dean feel uncomfortable that someone that you wouldn't look twice at when passing them on the street could be such a dark creature. "You couldn't find me so I thought I'd make it interesting."

"How do I know it's really you that I'm looking for?" Dean finally managed to speak. "You could be lying to me."

"You were four," The demon interjected. "Your brother was six months old." He chuckled darkly. "How do you feel about your last words to him being ''night Sammy,'?"

"Shut up," Dean snapped. "Any one of your demon friends could have told you that."

The demon rolled his eyes. "They're hardly my friends, Winchester. And isn't a trustworthy man's word his bond?" His hazel eyes settled on Dean's green ones. "Isn't that what you always believed?"

"Well, from my perspective, you're not exactly trustworthy."

"Yet dear old dad is?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The demon laughed, sounding somehow both amused and exasperated. "He really tells you nothing."

"My dad trusts me-"

"John Winchester is a liar!" For a tall man with such puppy-like features, the demon could be extremely intimidating when he raised his voice. "What do you know about your brothers?"

"I..." Dean and John didn't talk about Sam often but that was just because of the circumstances. Surely that had nothing to do with trust. Dean then realised that the demon had said brothers. "I only had one brother."

The demon sighed and tapped his fingers on the car roof in an irritated fashion. "You don't know about the note?" Dean continued to stare blankly, letting the demon know exactly what he needed to know. "I'm guessing that you don't know about Adam either."

"Who's Adam?"

"You... You truly are clueless, Winchester. You can work one hell of a case but god forbid you find out one of daddy's secrets." The demon pushed away from the Impala. "I'll make this easier for you. Turns out that it's more fun that way so we'll make a game of this." The demon didn't smirk this time. He was trying to figure out why he was helping this human. Sympathy? Empathy? Amusement? He didn't really care. He was bored. "I'll be in California for three days. If you want any more information from me then you have until midnight on the third day to find me."

"You could be anywhere in California," Dean pointed out. The demon was hardly trustworthy so there was no guarantee that he'd stay in the same part of California for three days. "How am I supposed to find you?"

The demon gave a one shouldered shrug and began to walk away. "Three days, Winchester."

"I don't even know your name!"

"You can call me the Boy King!" And with that, he was gone.


	3. Alexander

Dean didn't tell John about the Boy King – how pretentious do you have to be to call yourself the Boy King anyway? The Boy King of what? – but there was something about the demon that made him want to trust it and he knew that a hunch could be the difference between life and death so after a mysterious house fire was reported in California hours after the demon's visit he suggested to John that they should go and check it out.

When they made it to California it was already the third day and Dean had almost no hope of finding the Boy King at this rate.

"You've been awfully quiet," John commented. "What's wrong?" If he wasn't driving he would turn to look at Dean but he kept his eyes on the road.

"Nothing," Dean replied defensively. "What makes you think anything's wrong?"

"Normally you won't shut up." John didn't say anything about Dean's tone but he knew that it meant something was bothering him. "Just thought that maybe something was up."

Dean couldn't stop thinking about what the demon had said to him and he desperately wanted to confront John but he also wanted to trust him. The conflict going on inside his head was the main reason for his silence. "Dad?" he finally asked, truly wanting to believe that the Boy King was lying to him but he couldn't shake the feeling that John maybe was hiding things. "Who's Adam?" he asked first, he'd look for the note later.

"How do you know about Adam?" John asked, finally pulling the car over into a motel parking lot.

"Doesn't matter." Dean glared at his father. "Who is he?" He could see John's hesitation and began to feel his own doubt. John definitely knew something about this Adam and he was hiding something big. The Boy King was right. A demon was possibly more honest with Dean in one night than his father had been in – maybe – years.

"It's complicated."

"Have you seen our lives?" Dean asked, both the volume and pitch of his voice rising. "Everything about us is complicated. This whole life is complicated."

"Dean –"

"Dad, listen to me. I've relied on you my whole life. I've trusted very few people and none more than you. Then I find out that you're hiding things, hiding people. You never even taught me how to kill a demon yet you brought me along with you. How do you expect me to react to that? It's been twenty years, dad! Mom's dead, Sam's dead and killing this demon isn't going to bring them back! It's just a way for you to deal with your mistakes!"

John just stared at Dean, Dean didn't often express emotion. In fact, he actively avoided doing so. John shook his head and looked away from Dean. He couldn't help but think that Dean was right. Sam should have been his top priority that night but instead he'd panicked. He should have gone into the nursery when Sam began to cry instead of Mary. But instead, he watched his own wife be brutally murdered and prevented Dean from having a childhood. He should have realised just how much he was ruining his own son's life. "Dean... I..."

"Leave it." Dean sighed. He pushed open the door of the Impala and climbed out of the passenger seat.

"Where are you going?"

"I just... I need some time alone."

Admittedly, Dean hadn't completely thought this through. They hadn't checked into the motel so how was he going to know which room they were staying in. And John was probably going to be mad at him when he got back. What if John was worried? He was already under a lot of stress and Dean could be making it worse. Dean already regretted leaving but he couldn't go back, he had a point to prove.

Before long he'd found himself sitting on the edge of an empty pier and watching the sun set over the water. The only sounds were the lapping of the water below him and the occasional low rumble of an engine as a car drove by somewhere behind him. Dean wasn't alone often, but when he was, it was lonely and it gave his emotions the perfect opportunity to wash over him.

Guilt.

That was the strongest one. He had blamed his dad for the deaths of his mom and brother. You can't do something like that and expect the other person to be okay. He knew that he had to go back and apologise but he wasn't ready.

One of the bigger differences between John and Dean was that John would only apologise if he meant it but Dean had given so many empty apologies that he began to wonder if the words "I'm sorry," even meant anything coming from him. Did the word "sincere" even apply to him anymore?

"Trouble in paradise, Winchester?" Dean looked up at the taller man who had spoken. Dean could see him clearer now that there was better lighting. The orange glow from the setting sun made his face appear softer and his black hair lighter.

"What's it to you?" Dean asked with a bitter edge to his voice as he glared at the demon.

"It's a comfort to know that you're suffering." The Boy King took a seat next to Dean, letting his long legs hang over the edge of the pier. His face was still blank. There wasn't even a smirk to go with his previous comment. "Fight with your dad?" His voice softened and, for a moment, Dean had to remind himself that the Boy King wasn't human.

"Sort of," Dean muttered. He looked back down to the water, its murky blackness was lined with ripples of gold.

The Boy King didn't know what to do. He'd never been confronted with this situation before and, clearly, wasn't known for comforting others. "Do you..." He shifted awkwardly and ended up facing Dean, "want to talk about it?"

"You want me to talk about my feelings?" Dean looked up at the demon again. When he spoke the bitterness in his tone had been replaced by confusion.

"Believe it or not, I do know what it's like to have emotions."

"That's rich coming from someone who calls himself the Boy King."

"Alexander," the Boy King said, his eyes not leaving the water below them.

"What?"

"It's my name. Alexander." He finally looked at Dean with the trace of a smile on his face.

"You're actually telling me your name?"

Any hint of emotion was gone from Alexander's face instantly. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Why are you here, Alexander?" Alexander shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't reply but he didn't really have to, the answer was still the same as it always had been. Boredom and – though Alexander could never admit it – a craving for company. "You don't hate me," Dean observed. "And you're not the one causing the fires."

"How did you..?"

"Just a feeling. But your reaction implies that I'm right." Their surroundings were almost submerged into complete darkness due to the passage of time. "You're not too bad. Just lonely." Alexander didn't say anything, he only replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I get it. I get lonely too." Dean looked up at the night sky. "I was supposed to have a little brother. I would have someone to protect. I could've taught him how to fix cars, tease him when he couldn't talk to girls, and threaten anyone who laid a hand on him." A smile found Dean's lips but it was a sad one, a ghost, a memory of something he could never have. "I bet he would've grown up to be brilliant."

Alexander was thankful that Dean's eyes didn't leave the sky. He was thankful that Dean didn't see the smile on his face.

Dean knew that he had to go back to his dad. He owed him an apology and just waiting around wasn't going to fix anything. When he stood up he heard a "Good luck, Winchester," from his demonic companion.

"See ya, Alex."

When Dean made it back to the motel John was still outside. He was sitting on the hood of the Impala, phone in hand. Dean stopped on the other side of the road for a few moments in order to collect himself and get his thoughts in order. John was staring at his phone with a worried expression and Dean began to wonder if John had tried to call him while Dean hadn't even bothered to check if his phone was turned on. Dean had no idea what time it was so he didn't know how long John had been waiting but it must have been at least a few hours. How long would John have waited? What if Alex had used the opportunity to kill him? What would John have done then?

A feeling of heavy guilt settled in Dean's stomach when John looked up and noticed him. The worried look on John's face was replaced with one of relief. John stood up when Dean began to walk across the road towards him. "Dean, I -"

"Don't," Dean mumbled and hugged his father. "I'm so sorry."

-

It's hard to fight the darkness when the darkness is all you see. Alexander had tried, he really had. He didn't kill as many people as he could have and he tried his best to act as human as he could. When things started getting bad he found Dean. Dean was a reminder of who he really was and who he could have been. And there was something about Dean that managed to erase the usual apathy that Alexander felt. Being called Alex made him feel human again and there was something about the way it was said, so casually, that made him feel at home, like he belonged somewhere.

"Is something bothering you, Alexander?"

"No, sir." Alexander quickly looked up from the part of the desk that he was so intently staring at and met the eyes of the elder demon who was sitting across the table. Azazel had called the Boy King into the office with the intentions of giving him a mission but it was clear that there was something else on the boy's mind as soon as he'd walked through the door.

"You haven't been talking to the Winchester boy again, have you? All I asked you to do was lead him here," Azazel said.

"No, sir. I haven't." The lie rolled off of Alexander's tongue so easily. Deceit was something that Alexander had perfected at a young age and had quickly learned that it was essential for survival.

"I do hope that you're telling the truth, Alexander." Azazel raised a brow, sceptic of Alexander's answer. Azazel had taught Alexander everything that he knew in order to make sure that his chosen one survived. "You know what happens when people lie to me."

"Yes, sir." Alexander nodded. He had heard stories about demons that had tried to blaze their own trails. The lucky ones were shunned – outcasts among their own kind – while others were sent back to Hell to be tortured again. "Why did you ask for me, sir?"

"There's a job that needs to be done and I think you're the only one that can do it."

"What makes you think that I can do it?"

"Because the body you're inhabiting is your own," Azazel explained. The way he said it made it seem like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. Alexander just stared blankly, waiting for a better explanation. "It's an angel we're dealing with." Alexander still didn't understand. "And your true form looks exactly like your body."

Alexander nodded slowly ad the information began to make sense to him. "Which angel?"

"Gabriel."

"The archangel?" Azazel nodded, yes. Alexander had never encountered an angel, let alone an archangel. "You want me to kill an archangel?"

"Not necessarily kill. Just... Incapacitate. Meg will update you on his whereabouts as soon as we have that information." Azazel stood up to leave the room. He stopped as he reached for the door handle. "Oh, Alexander, could you also take care of your father? He has an awful habit of getting in my way."

-

Two months later Dean and John had found themselves in Wisconsin on a vampire hunt.

Dean moved through the alleyway as quietly as he could. If he made the slightest sound the woman he was following would run. The sound of his heartbeat was probably loud enough to send a warning.

He turned the knife in his hand as he waited for the vampire to reach the opening of the alley. "Hey!" He called out. Dean felt a sharp pain as the knife sliced into his palm. He could hear the blood dripping from his palm onto the cement but he didn't look at it. He couldn't afford to lose concentration, if he took his eyes off the vampire for even a second he could be dead.

The vampire turned to him, eyes dark with blood lust. Dean swallowed nervously as he held up his bleeding hand. There was a plan and this plan involved Dean having no way to defend himself. It was a stupid plan in his opinion but he had faith that his father knew what he was doing. Dean had to be the bait and John would show up when the time was right.

"Is this what you want?" Dean tried to remain calm as the vampire approached him. He'd spent his whole life training so he sure as hell wasn't going to get killed by something as easy to handle as a vampire.

She was hungry and Dean knew it. He had interrupted her hunt with his own. She was hungry and there Dean was, palm sliced open and dripping blood. Blood that she wanted. Blood that she needed. The smell was so inviting and the sight was so open. She couldn't control herself while watching the blood run from the cut in his palm down his wrist, staining his white sleeve crimson. She backed Dean into the wall, fangs visible and glinting between her chapped lips.

Where was John? He should've been there. He said he'd be there. Dean needed him, but Dean remained calm.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the unnaturally sharp teeth that he'd seen so many times before but this time was different somehow, he could feel it.

Dean didn't want to die like this. He wanted to die bloody and heroic. Not because of a slip up.

He was hoping for a sign that the plan was working, waiting for his phone to vibrate against his leg from where it was sat in his pocket, a glimpse of John, anything. This is part of the plan, he tried to convince himself of something he knew wasn't true. He had to have faith.

Then in one swift movement from another figure in the alley, the vampire was on the ground, its head lying a few feet away.

"It's about time," Dean half complained, half teased.

"A thank you would be nice, Winchester." The taller of the two handed the machete he was holding to Dean.

Dean took the weapon without any hesitation. The weight was a comfort, to Dean it was what safety felt like. "Thanks, Alex." Dean jumped into fighting stance and held the machete towards Alexander playfully.

Alexander pushed the machete to the side, a look of disinterest on his face. "Come on."

"Wait," Dean stood up straight again, his hand falling to his side, "Where's my dad."

"Daddy got a little tied up," Alexander said. He began walking but didn't look back to see if Dean was following because he knew that he was.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean's voice came from somewhere behind Alexander. His concern was his father was touching but his distrust of Alexander was hurtful but his disinterested appearance didn't falter.

"It means whatever you want it to mean."

Dean let out a frustrated groan due to the demon being cryptic. He walked faster so he was side by side with Alexander by the time they turned out of the alleyway. "He's okay, right?"

"Of course he is. He ran into another vampire and I offered to help you out since he was busy." Alexander sounded almost offended at the implication that he'd ever hurt John. He looked down at Dean, not surprised to find him at his side. "I know we've only spoken twice but if I was that untrustworthy one of us would be in Hell right now." 'And not the one you think,' he added mentally. In the months they hadn't spoken Alexander had observed that Dean had tended to exorcise demons rather than kill them in hopes of saving the host. It didn't work a majority of the time but his heart was in the right place. Alexander was his own host, he hadn't been a demon long enough to find a new one so an exorcism would be futile.

"Why are you different?"

The question surprised Alexander. He had never really thought of himself as different. He's still taken lives. "I'm not," he said after a pause. He had to think carefully about his answer because, in all honesty, he didn't know what the answer was himself. "I guess that I've acknowledged that good and bad are conventional and the choices we make are just that, choices, nothing more and nothing less. There shouldn't be excuses for the things we choose to do." He didn't really know if he believed what he was saying and he didn't know where it was coming from but it was better that leaving Dean without an answer. "How's your hand?"

Dean finally looked away from Alexander's face and down at his hand which he had completely forgotten about while he was entranced by Alexander's words. When Alexander was just talking his voice was a gentle lull, soothing to the point that pain was forgotten but it was like acknowledging the still bleeding cut reminded him that it was supposed to hurt. The worst part of this reminder was that the pain didn't just stay in his palm, it stretched from the tips of his fingers and worked its way up to between his shoulder blades, feeling like fire was running through his veins. He didn't have much of a reaction to the pain due to feeling it so much through the course of his lifetime that he was almost numb to it. "I've had worse." Putting himself in harm's way everyday was almost habit by this point. Trying to count the scars the lined his body was trying to count the light freckles that littered his face.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It's fine," he lied. "It's just..."

Alexander cut him off. "Going to get infected." He stopped walking and gave Dean a pointed look. Dean kept walking until he noticed the absence of someone beside him so he turned back to look at Alexander. "We're going to stop somewhere so I can take care of it." Dean opened his mouth to protest but Alexander spoke again before he could. "There will be no objections. You're going to let me clean it and put a bandage on it at least because we both know that you're not above using a dirty knife."

Dean stayed quiet and followed behind Alexander once he'd started walking again. They stayed like that for a while, not talking to each other but occasionally glancing at the other to make sure they were still there.

It didn't take long for them to find themselves in park that wasn't far from the motel where Dean and John were staying. "Sit," Alexander said, pushing Dean down onto the bench. "I'm going to see if I can get anything useful. Don't move while I'm gone." Then he left.

Dean looked around the area. The only sources of light were from the streetlights surrounding the outside of the park so he could only make out the dark outlines of the trees and the occasional passer-by.

He placed the machete that he was still holding onto the bench next to him so it wasn't fully visible in the dimness of the surrounding area. Dean didn't know what it was but there was something about a man sitting alone and holding a tool which could be used as a deadly weapon that made people uncomfortable.

A shiver ran through Dean and he regretted his rash decision to not put on a jacket when he left the room but he was also thankful for the second layer that was draped over his torso. Whoever came up with idea of flannel shirts was a genius. He clenched his bloody fist to stop the cold air from amplifying the pain.

After an eternity – realistically, it was half an hour at most – Dean heard a soft "hey," come from somewhere on his left. He turned to the source of the voice and smiled, finding an unspoken comfort in Alexander's return. Alexander had taken a seat on the bench next to him and was clutching something in each hand. "I did my best," he explained, holding up the bottle of alcohol so Dean could see it. He was holding some sort of cloth in his other hand. Dean then noticed that part of Alexander's shirt had been ripped away from the bottom. When Dean looked up again Alexander was looking at him expectantly. Dean gave a sheepish grin, showing that he hadn't been paying attention. Alexander just rolled his eyes before repeating himself. "Give me your hand."

Dean held his injured hand towards Alexander and slowly unclenched his fist so the wound was exposed to Alexander.

A quiet "tsk," came from Alexander as he unscrewed the lid from the bottle. "You only needed to draw a little blood. Cutting this deep was really unnecessary."

"I'm sorry if how much blood was necessary wasn't my main priority," Dean hissed through gritted teeth as Alexander poured the alcohol onto the cut.

"Hold still," Alexander snapped when Dean tried to pull his hand away. "Don't be such a baby." He put the bottle down then wrapped the piece of torn shirt around Dean's hand, covering the cut. "There." He let go of the other's wrist. "Now, let's get you back."

Dean was walking close to Alexander so he wouldn't lose him in the darkened street. Alexander stared straight ahead while he walked and Dean watched him. Dean noticed something that he hadn't before – probably due to bad lighting – it was an amulet. Dean didn't know if Alexander was wearing it earlier but he was curious about it. Alexander glanced at Dean and raised an eyebrow. "Something on your mind, Winchester?"

"Just wondering about your necklace." Dean shrugged, finally paying attention to where he was walking. "I didn't really take you for a jewellery guy."

"This?" He looked down at the amulet that was resting against his chest. It wasn't really much, just an old charm and some black string to keep it around his neck. It didn't really hold any sentimental value to Alexander, he couldn't even remember when he got it. He didn't really even notice it often but he was always wearing it, always had been as long as he could remember. Dean nodded when Alexander looked back to him. "It's just a trinket that I got a long time ago. Apparently it's special but it's never really done much." Then Alexander had an idea. "You can have it."

"How do I know it's not bugged or something?"

"I wouldn't have offered it if you hadn't asked about it. If it was bugged then there would have been a plan to give it to you."

"I suppose that's true." Dean nodded.

Alexander pulled it off over his head and handed it to Dean.

"Thanks, Alex." Dean smiled while putting it around his own neck.

"Alex?" There was a smile on Alexander's face when he brought up the nickname for the first time. Dean couldn't tell if it was genuine, amused, or if he was just trying to be polite, but it was the first time he'd seen Alexander smile like that so he was going to savour the moment.

"It's just that Alexander's a mouthful," He explained with a sheepish shrug, hoping the nickname stuck.

"Alex," Alexander repeated as if he was testing the name in his mouth. "I like it."

"So, I can call you Alex?"

"Sure." Alex nodded.

"So, how old are you anyway?" Dean asked, nudging Alex with his shoulder while they walked. "You're probably, like, two hundred or something."

"Actually, I'm twenty four." Alex chuckled when Dean looked surprised.

Dean didn't know what to think about a demon being younger than he was. A frigging demon. "God, I'm getting old." He muttered, making Alex laugh again. He decided in that moment that he liked Alex better when he seemed happy, it was a huge improvement on the brooding figure that he'd met in the motel parking lot and, for the first time ever, he felt like he had a friend. Not someone with an ulterior motive and definitely not someone who pitied him, but a real friend. He looked up at the taller male and smiled. "You're one of the good guys, y'know?"

The smile on Alex's face faltered slightly and he looked down at his feet. "Don't speak too soon," He mumbled. Alex knew what had to happen, what he had to do. It hurt a lot more than it should have. Alex had promised himself that he wouldn't grow attached but the man was quickly becoming his best, and only, friend.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, furrowing his brow. What was Alex up to? Dean believed that Alex wouldn't hurt him or, at least, he wanted to believe that.

"It's nothing." Alex shook his head before smiling. "Don't worry about it. You have any plans for today?" Dean shook his head in reply. "Good," Alex said. "We need to talk."

-

"Castiel?" The angel looked up from the papers on his desk to where his brother was standing in the doorway. "Are you busy?" The smaller of the two asked nervously.

Samandriel had been around for considerably less time than the others and was still nervous when speaking to them.

A soft smile found Castiel's lips as his eyes landed on his younger sibling. "Not at all. What is it you need?"

Samandriel was anxiously tugging at the frayed sleeves of the oversized sweater that Gabriel had gotten him the previous year. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and stared at his fidgeting hands, hair falling over his face. "I know I'm not supposed to ask but do you think I can take on a human?"

"As a guardian or in a fight?"

Samandriel's head snapped up to look at Castiel. He really couldn't tell if the older angel was serious or not. Castiel rarely joked and it was hard to tell when he did. "As a- a guardian..."

Castiel believed that Samandriel would make a good guardian due to his caring nature but Gabriel had always said that he'd become too attached to his assigned human. Samandriel had always accepted the fact that he wasn't guardian material and being a guardian had never really appealed to him anyway so Castiel wondered where this change in heart had come from. "What made you want to bite the bullet?" Castiel asked, head tilted.

Samandriel's gaze remained on a spot behind Castiel. He had never been so nervous. "There's a human..." Samandriel explained, still tugging at the loose threads of the sweater. "He needs someone."

"And this someone is you?"

"I'm better than no one." Samandriel was finally looking Castiel in the eye. "He's a hunter's kid, Castiel. There's going to be things going after him and he never learned how to protect himself."

"Looks like Gabriel was wrong," Castiel commented. "You becoming attached to a human was inevitable whether you were their guardian or not."

"I'm not attached- I've never even spoken to him."

There was a few moments of silence then Castiel was the first to break it. "What's his name?"

"Adam Milligan."

"I'll talk to Gabriel for you later," Castiel promised. "I think I might be getting somewhere on this case."

"You've got a case?"

"Yes." Castiel nodded. "John Winchester."

"That's perfect!" Samandriel suddenly exclaimed and Castiel shot him a confused look. "The human I want to guard is his son. We could help each other."


	4. Short Goodbyes

Sixty seven days. It had been sixty seven days since Alex had told Dean to skip town and keep a low profile. Not that Dean was counting.

Neither Dean nor John had been on a hunt in over two months so both were becoming quite restless but they were managing. Understandably, John was quite hesitant in trusting a demon at first but after Dean had convinced him that Alex was on their side he agreed to lay low for a while.

"Happy birthday, kid." John sat down next to Dean and handed him a bottle of beer. He raised his own bottle. "Here's to twenty six years."

Dean raised his bottle then took a drink. "I was thinking about going out tonight," he said after a few long minutes of silence. "I've been in here for way too long and I need to do something."

"It was your demon who told us not to."

"And now you think a demon knows what's best for me?" Dean raised an eyebrow. He wasn't mad that John wasn't letting him hunt. He was surprised. "Besides, I'll be fine as long as it's not anything large scale." When John still looked hesitant Dean added, "Please. For my birthday."

John thought for a few seconds. "Fine," he said. "But tomorrow we're going to Bobby's. No arguments." He gave Dean a look that showed that he was serious. "And you're going to stay there until the demon says you're safe."

Dean excitedly reached for his laptop so that he could see if there was anything worth checking out nearby. "He has a name," Dean muttered while the laptop loaded up.

"Probably just goes by the name of the poor guy it's possessing."

"He," Dean began, glaring at his father, "probably isn't possessing anyone." The longer Dean thought about it, the more his 'theory' made sense. "He's only twenty so he can't have been a demon long."

"Just look for a case," John said, taking the subject no further. He was glad his son was making friends. But a demon? There was a line and that was way over it.

Dean found a case that could be a ghost then he was out the door without another word.

-

"I thought that I told you to stay away from drawing attention to yourself?"

Dean jumped when he heard the familiar voice. He quickly got rid of any surprise that might have been on his face and looked up at his friend. Alex's head was tilted and the look on his face made Dean understand why his previous statement had sounded like a question. It seemed like Alex had expected Dean to follow his conditions without making a few of his own, but that's not how Dean was. "Are you stalking me now?" Dean asked, hoping to change the atmosphere to something less serious.

Alex seemed to blush at being called out but it could have just been a trick of the light. Whatever it was, Alex didn't let it cause the rest of his demeanour to falter. "I'm just checking up on you." Dean only replied with a questioning look. A simple raise of his eyebrows and Alex knew what he wanted to hear. "Dean," Alex sighed, "if we're going to be friends now-"

"Best friends." Dean used a teasing tone but part of him was serious.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Best friends," he continued, "it'd be nice to know that you're still alive."

"You could just call me," Dean suggested.

"I don't have your phone number."

"So you can figure out my exact location but you can't figure out my number?"

"You don't exactly make finding you hard." Alex chuckled. "I mean, this," he gestured the fire that was illuminating both of their faces, "is not normal."

Dean looked down into the burning grave. "That could've been anybody."

Alex just laughed. "Get back to the motel."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then I'll carry you there."

"You're no fun."

"I'm not supposed to be fun." Alex rolled his eyes and with a glare, the flames in the grave died down into nothing. "Safety's not fun but I'd rather you didn't die."

"Why? Do you care about me or something?"

"Just get back to the motel."

When Dean didn't move Alex kept his promise. Alex easily threw Dean over his shoulder and started walking back to the motel where Dean and John were staying the night. "Hey!" Dean yelled but he didn't fight against Alex, he knew it'd be useless if he even tried. "Please just let me stay out a little longer."

When Alex didn't reply Dean gave up on his protests but soon after he felt his feet once again on the ground.

Who knew that a demon could be so averse to a hunter being in harm's way. Dean looked up at Alex with a pout. "This isn't fair. I've been inside for way too long," He complained. "I accepted that this job is going to be the death of me a long time ago. So why can't you just let it be that way?"

"Because I don't know you as much as I should." Alex had to restrain himself from yelling. Dean gave him a look that told him that his statement required context. "And I can't keep lying."

"Lying to who?" Dean furrowed his brow. "About what?"

Alex shook his head. Withholding information isn't lying, right? "Just take this." He shoved a crumpled piece of paper into Dean's chest. "I took it from your dad for you." When Dean reached up to take the note Alex's grip loosened but his hand remained on Dean's chest. "I'm sorry..." He eventually pulled his hand away and let it drop by his side. "This is goodbye, Winchester."

"What do you mean?"

Alex laughed and, for the first time, sounded weak. He sounded broken. "Just... don't come looking for me." A smile found his lips, one that didn't reach his eyes and caused a part of Dean to break too. "And I want you to listen to me this time, Dean."

Then he was gone.

Dean stared into the darkness at the place he'd last seen Alex. "So this is it?!" He called to seemingly nothing. "Well that's a crappy way to say goodbye!" Then he remembered the note. Hesitantly he unfolded the paper and in a messy scrawl, under the lights outside the motel four words stood out.

Samuel Winchester is alive.

-

Dean sat in the passenger seat of the car and watched his dad talk to Bobby. He couldn't believe that Sam was alive and his dad hadn't told him. He'd always thought that if there was any chance of getting Sam back his father would have told him. But instead he had to find out from the demon who he was still mad at for leaving him.

John and Bobby kept glancing into the house and Dean could only wonder what they were planning now. John eventually looked back at the car and gestured to Dean to join them. Dean got out of the car and gingerly made his way over to them.

"I promised that I would tell you at some point," John said. "And I try not to lie to you, Dean."

Dean gave a wary look. What was his father up to now?

"Adam!" He called. Dean immediately froze, remembering the name that he'd confronted his father about a few months previously. Before long there was a boy at the door, probably no older than seventeen. "Adam, this is Dean." Adam gave a small wave in Dean's direction. Dean smiled but was trying to figure out why Adam was such a big secret. He was just a kid. "Dean, this is Adam. My son."

"Son?" Dean quickly looked from Adam to John. "You didn't tell me that you had another son."

"He didn't tell me either," Adam said, speaking for the first time since he'd gone outside.

Both Dean and Adam looked to John expectantly and both desperately wanted an explanation. "Look," John explained, "Adam didn't know about any of this until recently so I thought he'd be safer if I left him out of it."

"Tell that to the monster that killed my mom," Adam huffed and crossed his arms.

"A monster killed his mom?"

"A ghoul killed his mom, yes."

"Dude, that's rough."

-

"We have the whereabouts of your archangel." Meg's voice was a bored drawl as Alex entered the room.

"He's not my archangel." Alex pointed out. "I've never even met him." He didn't even look at Meg as he picked up her notes from their place on the table. There was a lot of it that Alex didn't read, he just looked over the information that he needed. "How am I supposed to do anything if he's this all powerful being who can kill me before I can even get a word in?" He asked. He had known angels were powerful but archangels seemed to be extremely over powered and could only be killed by a certain blade. How was he supposed to – as Azazel put it – incapacitate him?

"That's for you to work out, big guy," Meg said with a condescending smile. "I wish I could watch you inevitably fail but unfortunately I have somewhere else to be." She stood and headed towards the door. "It was nice knowing you, Alexander," she said, sounding far too amused, then she left.

"He's not going to kill me," Alex muttered even though he knew that there was no one around to hear him. "I can do this." He looked over the notes in his hands again. "What's the worst that could happen?"

-

According to Meg, the archangel had taken up residence in a small apartment and only left when seeking some form of entertainment. But it all seemed too easy. The apartment wasn't particularly hard to find and the door was unlocked. As Alex crept farther into the apartment he noticed light reflected on something on a counter, a blade. He picked up the blade hesitantly. It seemed like a trap. Was the angel expecting him? It wouldn't surprise him if that was the case.

As Alex studied the blade he heard a voice from somewhere behind him. "I wouldn't play with that if I were you, kid." The blade fell to the floor with a clatter as Alex turned around quickly. He found himself facing a far shorter man with golden-blond hair, gold eyes and an overly confident grin. "It's not really made for your kind. Y'know, being a holy artefact and all."

"You- you're Gabriel?" Alex cleared his throat when he realised how nervous he sounded. Being nervous definitely wasn't part of the plan. The plan was to remain calm and bring the angel to his knees. "You're the archangel?"

"That would be me," Gabriel answered, looking Alex up and down. "And you're awfully cute for a demon. Is that why they sent you?"

"I- What?"

"Kudos to Azazel," Gabriel said, walking around Alex. "He knows how to pick distractions well."

Alex could feel the heat rise in his face. "Shouldn't you be more careful?" Alex asked. He tried to pull the blade towards him using his foot but he remained otherwise completely still. "If you already know that I'm just a distraction?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I think the way you look is a distraction. Not you."

Alex tilted his head and watched the angel intently. He didn't know what to expect but it definitely wasn't this. "What does that mean?"

"You were sent here to kill me." While Gabriel spoke Alex quickly grabbed the blade that was by his feet but before he could do anything he couldn't feel the blade. Alex stood up straight and looked at his hand, where he should've found the blade, but instead found his fist clenched around nothing. "Do you really think I'm that careless?"

"...Yes?" Alex eventually answered, though it sounded more like a question than an answer. Why did he have to deal with this angel? Why couldn't he get one that wouldn't – not so subtly – flirt with him. Gabriel raised an eyebrow and Alex shook his head. "No."

"Well, you know my name, how about I find out yours?"

"Alex," Alex said, head cocked to the right. "They call me Alex."

-

"Dean!" The pained and desperate voice rang out like someone's cry in an empty room. "Dean, please!"

"Alex?" Dean felt like he was frozen. He was cold and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move his feet from where they were firmly planted on the gravel. "Alex, I'm coming!"

"Dean!" Alex's voice called out once more then there was nothing but silence.

Dean couldn't move, he couldn't talk, he could barely even breath. The silence probably lasted only minutes but it could just as easily have been hours. Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally able to step forward. "Alex!" he called again but was met with more silence. "Alex..." His voice was quiet and, god, did he sound pathetic. He furrowed his brow as the sound of crackling static filled his ears. The static only lasted seconds before it was cut off by a deafening scream. Dean fell to his knees and his hands went to his ears. He closed his eyes tightly and prayed for it to be over.

By the time that the screams died down the sound of wind and distant traffic picked up again. Dean hesitantly moved his hands away from his ears and slowly opened his eyes to find someone standing in front of him. "Hello Dean." The voice wasn't Alex's and it was far from familiar. The voice was deep and gravelly. "Your friend's alive."

Dean looked up at him, his eyes meeting the ocean blue ones of the man standing in the shadows before him. "Who are you?"

"That's for me to know and you to..." He trailed off and looked away from Dean. "Actually... it doesn't matter. I need your help."

"You need my help? Why?"

"You know things that you aren't supposed to know, Dean Winchester." The stranger stepped towards him. "Things that could help to stop dangers like Alexander."

"Alex isn't dangerous," Dean growled. He tried to stand up but it felt like some invisible force was holding him down on his knees.

"You know exactly what he is, yet you still say that." The other man walked around him, hands in the pockets of his trench coat and eyes raking over Dean. "Why is that?"

"I trust him." A metallic taste filled Dean's mouth. "He's my friend."

"He's going to hurt you in ways you can't even imagine."

"You don't know that."

"Trust me when I say that I do." The man crouched down so that his face was level with Dean's and it felt like his blue eyes could see straight into his soul, judging him. "Unfortunately," he continued, "you're no good to me unconscious." Before Dean could ask what he meant the man pressed two fingers against his forehead and darkness took over Dean's vision.

-

Dean awoke to find himself in the bed that he'd fallen asleep in earlier and sighed in relief. It was just a dream. He didn't know what time it was but he climbed out of bed and headed downstairs. Maybe John would be awake so Dean could speak to him.

Dean could hear hushed voices as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs. One of the voices belonged to his father and the other was familiar but Dean couldn't quite put his finger on why. But when Dean entered the room, his eyes met blue ones that he didn't want to remember but couldn't forget.

"Dad?" John looked up at Dean as he entered the room. "We need to talk."

"Can't it wait, Dean?" John asked, glancing over to the third man in the room. "We're speaking about something really important."

"More important than the fact that you lied to me?"

John's eyes widened at Dean's accusing tone. "Dean," he said as calmly as he could, "I have never lied to you." They both knew that wasn't true. There had been the little lies like "we're almost there," and "I'll only be gone for ten minutes," but there was also the bigger stuff like, "I'm being completely honest with you," and "Sam's dead." The bigger lies had only come to light recently but they hurt a hell of a lot more than all the little lies could ever hurt.

Dean took a deep breath. "What about Sam?" he asked, his voice dropping so the stranger couldn't hear him. He quickly realised that it was pointless when the man tilted his head at the question.

"Sam?" John furrowed his brow.

Dean stared at him for a moment before raising a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of nose. "Your son." It was the first time Dean had said "your son" rather than "my brother" but there was something more comforting about it. Brother had never felt right to Dean because he had never known Sam so how could he really consider him family?

When Dean heard "Sam," he pictured the boy that was supposed to grow up with him, who he was supposed to protect. He pictured a chubby faced baby with big, unknowing eyes and only wisps of hair. But when he heard "brother," he saw hazel eyes framed by long, brown hair and a half smile that had more meaning behind it than most people's most sincere smiles. He saw a tall man with broad shoulders and questionable motives, but a good heart. He saw his brother. But it wasn't John's son. He barely noticed himself clasp the amulet around his neck.

"How did you-"

"Does it matter?" Dean cut John off and his hand snapped back down to his side. "Why didn't you tell me that he's still alive? That this was never about revenge? That it was about finding him?"

"That's actually why I'm here." The voice sent chills down Dean's spine. "I need your help," Dean heard it say. "He's going to hurt you in ways that you can't even imagine." The only time that Dean had heard the voice was in a dream but the sound of it still made his blood run cold and his heart race with something that wasn't quite fear.

"And who are you?"

"I'm Castiel."

Dean took the moment to study the man. He looked messy and tired but somehow still perfect. He looked like he had haphazardly thrown on a suit and a trench coat. His eyes were as piercing as Dean had dreamed they would be and his hair was dark and messy. Just looking at him made Dean want to tangle his hands in his hair while he pulled him closer, feeing Castiel's chapped lips against his own...

Dean shook the thoughts from his head. It was not the time.

"Castiel is helping me look for Sam." Dean didn't look back to his father when he spoke, just nodded in acknowledgement of his words. "Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean shook his head and looked down. "No," he said quietly, "you're not. If you were sorry the I wouldn't have had to find out that my little brother is still alive from a demon." John opened his mouth to interject but Dean cut him off again before he could. "A demon, dad. Do you know how bad that is? A creature that is infamous for lying was more honest with me than my own father."

"So a demon told you?" Castiel spoke up again. "And you believed it without any doubts?" Moonlight spilled through the window and illuminated Castiel's face. It almost looked like there was a storm brewing behind the blue of his eyes and the hard features that Dean had seen in his dream had been softened.

Dean stared at him incredulously. "Of course I had doubts," he said with a bitter edge to his voice. "But he's proven himself to be pretty trustworthy so far." Dean shot a glare in his father's direction.

"You're acting childish," John muttered so only Dean could hear him.

"Do you mind if I speak to Dean alone for a moment?" Castiel continued on as if the tension in the room simply wasn't there.

"I don't know if-"

"It'll only be a moment." Castiel smiled towards John but Dean couldn't help but notice that everything about him seemed to radiate warmth. His smile was friendly, not professional, and lit up his whole face. Dean thought that it was either rehearsed or Castiel just found himself smiling a lot.

John looked almost hesitant to leave the two men alone but eventually nodded and left for the kitchen.

Castiel's smile fell as soon as the door closed behind John and he turned his full attention to Dean. "You've been speaking with the unholy?" he asked.

"Just one, but I wouldn't really say that he seems like a typical demon."

"How so?"

Dean moved farther into the room to take a seat on the hard couch and looked up at Castiel. "If we're going to be talking then you might as well sit."

Castiel looked from Dean to the armchair in the room before shaking his head. He was here for business, not making friends. "I'll just stand. I'm not planning on staying long anyway."

Dean nodded before answering Castiel's question. "I don't think he's like the others because I'm still alive. He hasn't even raised a finger to hurt me." "He's going to hurt you in ways you can't even imagine." It was just a dream. It's not possible that Castiel could've said that to him.

Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment before sitting down next to Dean and leaning forward. "What do you know about Samuel?"

"Just that he's alive." Dean didn't move away when Castiel was close to him or even when he mentioned Samuel. There was something calming about being near Castiel. There was a warmth that was almost numbing and suddenly Dean didn't care about what came out of his mouth. "But I haven't seen him for twenty years."

"Then can you tell me about Alexander?"


End file.
